


A Banquet of Consequences

by seraphina_snape



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Stiles and his friends rescue the sheriff from the clutches of the darach, Stiles spends the night at his hospital bedside and waits for his dad to wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Banquet of Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> **SPOILER WARNING:** This story contains information from the episode 3x09 - The Girl Who Knew Too Much and draws on some elements of its plot. If you have not seen this episode, you will be spoiled for the identity of the darach.
> 
> This story will most likely be Jossed as soon as the next episode airs, but I simply had to write down my own take of the post-rescue conversation.
> 
> The title comes from a quote by Robert Louis Stevenson: "Everybody, soon or late, sits down to a banquet of consequences."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Scott asked. 

"No, it's fine," Stiles reassured him. "Go find your mom and take her home." 

Scott nodded, but hesitated at the door. "I could stay though. My mom can take the car and I'll stay here with you." 

Stiles shook his head. "Really, Scott, it's fine." He looked down at his dad, pale and unconscious in a hospital bed. "Besides, I don't think they'd just let you stay. You know how hospitals are with rules." 

"But--" 

"Scott!" Stiles said sharply. "Just go home," he continued a little softer. 

"All right," Scott said. "But you call me if anything happens. Anything at all." 

Stiles promised to call with any news and then watched as Scott carefully closed the door behind him, leaving him alone in the room. Alone except for his unconscious father.

Stiles rubbed his forehead and then brushed back his hair. He had a headache from being thrown into a wall head first, there was a cut in his lip that throbbed in time with his too-fast heartbeat and his entire body felt like it was weighted down with lead. 

The sheriff had gotten a single room, much to Stiles' surprise. He wasn't sure if it was a coincidence, a nod to his dad's status in town or Scott's mom pulling strings on account of the werewolf business that was ultimately the root of the problem. Either way, he was glad to be alone with his dad. There wasn't anything to do but wait, and Stiles hated waiting. 

Stiles pulled the one chair in the room out from where it was shoved under the small table in the corner and carried over to his dad's bedside. Beacon Hills Memorial had these brightly colored molded plastic chairs in every room. They were almost comfortable at first, but once you've been sitting in one for twenty hours straight, you might as well be sitting on a slab of concrete. Stiles remembered this from when his mom was sick. His dad would just sit there, stoically staring at his wife's pallid face, whereas Stiles would fidget and squirm in his seat until he eventually had to get up and just not sit for a while. 

Stiles sat down with a sigh. Sitting still for however long it took for his dad to wake up seemed like a fitting punishment for doing something they both promised they wouldn't ever do: he'd used his mom against his dad in an argument. No matter how crushed he was to realize his dad didn't believe him, he shouldn't have used her memory like that. 

The doctors said his dad was doing okay. Heavy blood loss and a fever due to the beginnings of an infection, but otherwise okay. Stiles would believe it when his dad woke up.

Stiles brought a hand up to his mouth and started chewing on his thumbnail. 

His dad just had to wake up and then Stiles could apologize. For mom, for lying, for everything he'd done to make his dad's life more difficult these last few years. He _had_ to wake up. Stiles didn't want his last words to his dad be 'Mom would've believed me.' He didn't want their last conversation to be an argument. He didn't want to have a chasm of mistrust and suspicious and sadness between them. He wanted his dad back. He wanted them to be who they used to be, his mom's two boys against the world. 

_I'm so sorry, Dad._

Hesitantly, Stiles reached out a hand put it on his dad's arm, well out of the way of the IV-lines on the back of his hand. His dad's skin was reassuringly warm and soft and Stiles let out a choked sob. He couldn't start thinking like his dad was dying. He wasn't. He was going to wake up and things would be okay. 

They had to be. 

Blinking away the tears, Stiles pulled the chair closer to the bed and put his head down on the mattress next to his dad's leg. He wasn't going to sleep - he couldn't; someone had to watch over his dad - but he needed to rest his head a little. 

His dad was wearing a hospital gown and he hadn't been home in over two days, but to Stiles he still smelled like home. He just needed to breathe in the scent of home for a moment, to help get rid of his headache. 

Just before he fell asleep, Stiles thought he could almost feel his dad's hand on his head, caressing him like he had when Stiles was little. 

***

Stiles drifted in a half-awake, half-asleep state for a while before slowly swimming back to consciousness. His whole back was sore and his lip was still throbbing, but his headache had dulled to definitely manageable levels of pain. 

There was also definitely a hand on his head.

Stiles eyes shot open. 

His dad was awake. 

Stiles stopped himself from sitting up. He didn't want to jar his arm and pull on the stitches in his shoulder. "Dad!" 

His dad lifted his hand and Stiles slowly sat up, wincing when the muscles in his back protested moving. 

"You're awake!" They both said at the same time. 

"No, Dad, you're awake! When did you wake up? Did you call the nurse?" Stiles stood up and reached for the call button next to the bed. "The doctor should know you're awake!"

"Stiles, wait." 

Stiles froze, his hand two inches from the button.

"I think we should probably talk first," his dad said. 

Stiles bit his lip. "But what if something is wrong?" He couldn't take it if his dad collapsed later because Stiles hadn't called anyone. 

"I've been awake for a few hours, son. I don't think ten more minutes are going to make a difference." His dad pointed at the chair, making a face when the movement pulled at the tubes attached to his hand.

Stiles sat back down.

"So," his dad said. "It's all true." 

"Yeah," Stiles said. He didn't want to be petty and say 'I told you so'. His dad had almost died; he could be the bigger man and safe his righteous teenage reaction for a time when his dad wasn't recovering from being stabbed and abducted by a powerful dark druid.

"Scott is a werewolf." His dad gave a short laugh. "Little Scotty is a werewolf. I--does his mom know about this?" 

Stiles nodded. "She found out a while ago. At the station." 

"Scott is a werewolf. And Derek Hale, he's a werewolf, too?" 

Stiles nodded again. "And Cora." 

"And most of his family. And Kate Argent killed them because she hunted werewolves. Like the rest of her family." His dad put his right hand over his eyes for a moment and then pinched the bridge of his nose. "And your teacher is some kind of spirit who sacrifices people?" 

"A darach. A dark druid. She's connected to the alpha pack - they want her dead, but I don't know why. She's... well, she's kind of helping us against the alphas now." 

His dad did a double take. "She's what?" 

Stiles flinched. "Yeah, I wasn't too happy about it, either. But she used the sacrifices to make herself stronger and we need all the help we can get." 

"This--this is all too much," his dad said tiredly. "Werewolves and kanimas and evil druids and werewolf hunters. I--" he broke off and shook his head. "I don't even know what's going on in my town anymore." He gave Stiles a sad look. "Stiles, I--"

"It's fine, Dad," Stiles interrupted. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "It's a lot to take in. I can wait outside, or maybe go home and--and do something, I don't know. Get out of your hair for a while." 

His dad sighed and Stiles felt his heart clench. If his dad couldn't deal with this and want nothing to do with all the supernatural shit in Stiles' life, then Stiles would make damn sure that none of it ever touched his dad again. He couldn't abandon Scott or Lydia or even Derek, but he could keep it away from his dad. He could move all of his notes and books to Scott's house. He could be a better liar and not burden his dad with any of it.

"Stiles--"

"Really, Dad. It's okay," Stiles said. He backed up a few steps. "I can sleep over at Scott's place for a few days, no problem. Maybe you can talk to--"

"Stiles." 

Stiles clenched his jaw and tried not to look at his dad. 

"I was going to say I'm sorry. You tried to tell me what was going on and I didn't listen to you even though you were telling the truth and as a result, people got hurt. Stiles, please look at me." 

Stiles let out a shaky breath and looked at his dad. His dad had pushed himself into a half-sitting position and when Stiles looked at him, he jerked his head to the side in a 'come here' gesture. Stiles took a single slow step towards him and then his dad leaned forwards and opened his arms. Stiles threw himself into his father's arms.

For a moment, they just held on to each other, Stiles with his nose buried in his dad's neck and his dead with his chin on Stiles' shoulder. Part of Stiles wanted to pull back and check on his dad's shoulder - it couldn't be comfortable to hug someone with a freshly stitched stab wound in his shoulder - but a larger part wanted to hold on to his dad for as long as he could.

His dad turned his head a little. "God, Stiles. There were werewolves and hunters and supernatural turf wars happening in Beacon Hills and you had to deal with all of that on your own," his dad said into his ear. 

"Not alone," Stiles said, his voice muffled. "I had Scott and Lydia and Allison. And even Derek and his pack, sort of." 

"I wish I had been there for you." His dad squeezed him tighter. "I am so sorry, son." 

"You're here now, Dad," Stiles said. 

His dad patted his back. "That I am, Stiles. And you can forget all about keeping me out of this. When I get home, you show me all of the research in your room. I want to know everything." 

Stiles nodded. 

"And don't think this gives you a free pass to run around in the woods at night and show up at crime scenes," his dad continued. "In fact, I should... Yes. Stiles, you're grounded for the next two weeks." 

"Daaaad." Stiles pulled back from the embrace. "For what?" 

"Taking on an alpha werewolf without telling an adult." 

"Derek knew." 

His dad narrowed his eyes. "Derek doesn't count." 

Stiles mimicked his dad's expression. "But Derek is an adult." 

"That's what it says on his license, but I'm beginning to doubt it." His dad pointed at the chair. "Sit down. We're going to have a talk about the Stilinski house rules, werewolf edition." 

Stiles sank down onto the chair and squirmed. It was still uncomfortable, but his dad was awake and talking and Stiles felt like he could breathe for the first time in months. Then something occurred to him.

"Hey," Stiles said. "The thing with the alpha was ages ago! You can't ground me for something I did a year ago!" 

"Just be glad I'm only grounding you for two weeks." His dad raised an eyebrow. "Or do you _want_ me to ground you for a year? Because I could." 

Stiles was about 84 percent sure that his dad wouldn't follow through with it if he tried to ground Stiles for an entire year. Still, there was no need to test that belief. "No, I'm good." 

"Uh-huh." His dad sank back down onto his pillow. "Okay, now I'm comfortable." He looked at Stiles. "Tell me again, and don't leave anything out."

Stiles took a deep breath and started his story.


End file.
